The corsage
by smokeydog
Summary: Steve gets more than he bargained for when he tries to help Will.rather fluffy. WillLayla


Josie Stronghold wrapped sharply on her only child's bedroom door. "Will, I swear if you sneak out the window I will drop you into a vat of toxic waste."

"Mom," Will cracked open his bedroom door. "Maybe decreasing your Xanax dose wasn't such a good idea."

"You're not dressed yet," her expression was incredulous. "You'll be late for your own funeral."

"Dad! I little help here." _College is going to be so incredible._

Steve stepped forward and guided his wife downstairs. "Let's check out the Internet for government superfund sites. You never know when that information may come in handy."

"Very funny, just think what I would track into the house. You don't really want glowing carpets, do you?"

" Son," Steve called over his shoulder. Will saw his father pointedly tapping his watch.

Wondering if Warren had any idea how lucky he was to at least have one parent under lock and key, Will shut the door and collapsed against it. His tuxedo was laid out and neatly pressed. He got dressed quickly. Lacing his stiff dress shoes probably took the most time. He posed self consciously in front of a wall mirror. _No wrinkles or loose thread. I guess this is as good as it gets_. He left the safety of his room and headed downstairs.

He hated this part.

The minute she saw her son Jetsteam, a.k.a. Mom started to gush.

"Mom, its just homecoming. You gotta pace yourself. You're going to be a basket case at graduation if you keep up like this."

"Oh, Steve doesn't he look handsome," Josie wiped away a tear.

"A real chip off the old block." Satisfaction dripped from his voice like maple syrup pouring from a bottle. Will had built up a tolerance to his father, but it was still pretty nauseating.

Will obligingly stood still as his mother recorded the moment of prosperity.

"Will, why do you always have that pinched look on your face when I take your picture?" she passed the camcorder to Dad (who couldn't work it to save his life) to kiss Will's cheeks. "You act like you're embarrassed. "

"Embarrassed, me," Will feigned ignorance. "I live to be photographed. But really, I got to get going. Layla is expecting me." Sometimes Will thought his parents had gotten hit with an anti-sarcasm ray by Doctor Irony at some point in the past.

"Will, you're coming back here after you pick up Layla," his mother reminded him.

Will nodded. That was the deal, they wouldn't volunteer to chaperone and his mother got to get all mushy over him and Layla. They were bad enough at home, but the proud parent act in public -- Will would rather throw his lunch tray at Warren than deal with them at Sky High.

"Looking forward to it."

Steve smiled smugly at his son. Will's stomach clenched. He knew that smile. It never meant good news. There was the time The Commander visited his first grade class. The other students were enthralled, but Will kept thinking how silly his Dad looked in his red tights and cape. He tried to sink down in his seat and ended up stuck between his chair and tabletop. Of course, Dad pulled him up. Everybody thought it was so funny. Even Layla giggled. It was his mother's fifth favorite Will story. Then there was the time Dad bragged about Will being the best player on his little league team. That's when Will had his first inkling that his Dad had a problem dealing with certain unpleasant realities. How could he forget Dad introducing the twelve- year- old Will to a whole room of somewhat dubious superheroes as the hope of the next generation?

_I'm gonna end up paying for a vacation home for some lucky department shrink someday. I wonder if it will be a beach house or a cozy cabin in the woods._

"What did you do?" despite his best intentions his voice sounded squeaky.

Steve handed him an oblong florist box. Perplexed, Will took it from him. One look told him there was a problem. "Oh, shit," he moaned, "the shop screwed up."

"No they didn't," Steve rocked back on his heels. Mom was also showing a lot of shiny teeth.

_Why can't I have normal parents? _"Do you want to let me in on the big secret?"

"I stopped by the florist shop a couple of days ago and decided to check out what you ordered. Good thing too," he slapped Will on the shoulder. Will felt his bones' creak. "You should have come to me for advice first. This arrangement is a tad more expensive, but don't worry about it." He smiled expansively, "it's my treat."

"You changed my order."

Steve was oblivious to the blend of shock and outrage in Will's voice. Josie wasn't. When Steve complained to her about Will's choice, she encouraged him to have the order cancelled. She knew she would not have been happy with the flowers Will selected. She had imagined Will would be grateful.

She'd faced down psychopathic supervillains who looked more grateful than her son.

When Will was eight, Steve decided it was time to introduce their son to the delights of peewee football. He also decided to couch the team. He also decided that Will was going to be the team's star. A little encouragement and instruction would correct Will's clumsiness and do wonders for his lack of enthusiasm for all forms of team sport.

They'd gotten through one disastrous game before Will decided enough was enough. Will had been a usually placid, sweet tempered baby and child. Everyone said so. He never had temper tantrums. The ER staff had been amazed. They'd never seen a kid hold his breath long enough to loose consciousness. Steve and Josie ended up spending eight hours in the ER and Will needed eight stitches. It was still known as the triple eight incident.

"Will," Steve clapped his arm around his son's shoulders. "A dance corsage is very important. A girl wants her corsage to be the most beautiful in the room. She wants the other girls to be green with envy. I'm sorry son but your choice was lame."

"Maybe lame is little rough, honey." Josie jumped in. "But it was a bit," Josie searched frantically for a better word than lame, "different."

"Different," Will repeated dumbly.

" It wasn't a dream corsage, sweetie. Layla wouldn't have wanted to show it off to the other girls."

Will turned to look incredulously at his parents. "Do the two of you even hear yourselves? This isn't about me. It's about what you want, what you would have done -- which is so much better than my lame ideas." His voice grew louder, "it's not enough that you have my entire life planned out, I can't even pick out flowers without you butting in."

Steve was stocked. Josie tried to calm her son down, "Will . . . "

Ruthlessly he cut her off. "Maybe you were a pretentious bitch in high school, Mother but Layla' s not."

Josie stepped back, a hurt look on her face. Steve rounded on Will. "Don't you speak to your Mother like that!"

Will swallowed a lump in his throat. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Will, those blue flowers didn't even match her dress very well," Josie said softly. "Blue isn't even a color Layla wears."

"Forget-me-nots," Will said through clenched teeth. "That's what their called. I picked those flowers for a reason. I do have reasons for doing things on occasion. Maybe lame reasons. Maybe reasons which have nothing to do with bragging rights. Maybe I'm just not a carbon copy of you two?"

Josie and Steve just stared at each other. Steve opened his mouth but Will wasn't finished. "I don't appreciate being screwed like this." Somehow Will managed to open the front door without breaking it. He didn't bother to close it after him.

_Why does he always have to poke his nose into my life?_

Will half jogged down the street, his heart pounding. He only stopped because his dress shoes were starting to pinch. There was no way he was going to drive his father's car. He'd get Layla to borrow her mother's car.

He wished the earth would just swallow him whole. He knew his folks meant well, but why did they have to act this way.

He wished he could take back the words he had flung at his mother.

It didn't take him too long to reach Layla' house. He rang the doorbell, and tried to look deliriously happy. Hopefully his mother hadn't called Mrs. Williams about the fight.

Natalie Williams held open the door. "Come in, Will."

"Hi, Mrs. Williams."

"I didn't hear you drive up."

"I decided to walk over," knowing he is an abysmal liar, he doesn't bother to explain further.

"You seem a little out of breath for someone who walked two blocks."

Will just shrugged. "Is Layla downstairs yet?"

"She's in the living room."

Will had spent half his childhood in Layla's house. Many a time he'd been carried over here in pajamas when his parents were called out on an emergency.

He stopped dead when he saw Layla. His anger disappeared like snow under bright sunlight.

"You look wonderful."

Layla's smile could have lit the city.

Will shuffled the florist box between his hands. He'd been tempted to pitch it in the garbage, but it was all he had. Layla would be mad if he showed up empty handed. At least his father had gotten a wrist corsage. Layla held out her arm. With shaking fingers he secured the orchid corsage.

His Dad was right. It was stunning. The white flowers were festooned with yellow and white ribbons. It was more elegant than Will's choice.

Natalie came over to admire it.

"Don't you think it's lovely, Layla?"

"Oh yes," her smile had dimmed a bit. She looked at Will curiously.

"Pictures, both of you."

Obediently, Will and Layla posed while her mother snapped away. Natalie came over again and hugged her daughter.

Will pulled Layla aside. "Ask your mother if you can drive us to the pickup sight." Layla opened her mouth, probably to ask why, but Will's expression became forbidding. Layla went to speak to her mother. Again Natalie seemed surprised, but relinquished her car keys.

Will held open the car door for her then got in the passenger side. Layla started up the engine.

"Do you want to go to your parents' house?"

He sighed heavily. "Maybe we can call Warren and see if he wants to go visit the Baron in prison. It would be more fun."

"It must have been a hell of a fight."

"You could say that."

"So are you going to tell me?"

"My parents have no respect for the simplest decision I make. If I'm not following in their footsteps, I'm going nowhere. The usual."

"Ahh,"

"He is just impossible."

"So what did the Commander do this time?"

"Layla," Will suddenly felt tired. "I don't want to talk about it, not now."

She stared at him with those beautiful brown eyes. "Okay."

She pulled out of her mother's driveway.

It took everything Will had to put his anger out of his mind. This night was his and Layla. His parents were not going to ruin it. It was easier when he got to school. His friends were there. He slipped his arm around Layla's waist.

Layla received several compliments for the corsage. Will grimaced every time, but it was dark. Nobody seemed to notice.

Nobody but his date and his best friend.

Warren arched an eyebrow at him. Will just shrugged.

"So what's eating you?" Warren asked when the music stopped.

"Warren, do you think I'm lame?"

Peace looked surprised. "You are a complete dork, and just as oblivious as your old man sometimes, but the only time I'd say you were lame is when you try to lie, cause you're so bad at it."

"Thanks for the confidence boost."

Warren flashed a rare smile. Two girls hovering nearby nearly swooned in delight. "When you put your mind to something, when you put your heart into anything, you can do amazing things. Don't let anybody undermine that, even if you share DNA with them."

Will hoped it was dark enough that nobody noticed his blush. "Thanks."

"My good deed for the month is now complete."

MEANWHILE, BACK AT HOME

Steve and Josie had just stared at each other after Will blew out of the house.

Josie looked at her husband caustically. "Lame."

"Is that any worse than a forty one year old woman talking about how every girl wants to show off her flowers?"

Josie flinched. "I think I forgot how old I was for a minute." She sat down at the computer terminal. "What exactly did Will order?"

"A wrist corsage. It was an original arrangement, not one of their stock items. The main flowers were called forget-me-nots."

Josie typed the word in the computer. She didn't say anything, just tapped on the keys. "What color? Blue is the most common. It also comes in mauve and pink."

"Blue," he said positively.

Josie looked at the picture on the screen. "It's a pretty sky blue color, but it's a small bud. You want corsage flowers to be fairly big. The color would compliment Layla. With her red hair you couldn't have pink and probably not red." She shook her head. "What else?"

"Sprigs of lavender intertwined with English ivy."

"What?" For the life of her Josie couldn't imagine what Will was thinking.

"Don't look at me. The shop didn't know what to make of it either."

"Does Layla like these flowers?"

"Steve, Layla likes all flowers."

"So, what did Warren say about it?" Steve asked. Josie had called him (feeling very foolish) to see if he had any idea why Will had gotten so upset.

"I got the opinion Peace doesn't think highly of our intellect," she told him dryly. "He said he didn't understand half the stuff in Will's head, so he couldn't say what he had in mind, but he reminded me that Layla has plant powers so maybe he was looking for symbolism. He also said that if Will goes to the effort to do something, it's important to him."

"Symbolism." She typed in flower symbolism. There were several matches to chose from. Steve came to sit down next to her on the couch. She clicked on one match after another until she found a site she liked.

"How did we ever survive before computers?"

"Grimly. Okay, here we go. A popular legend in Germany is that of a knight and his betrothal walking in the forest. He bent by a racing stream to pick her a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, but lost his balance and fell into the water. He managed to throw her the bouquet just before being swept away. He called out to her to never forget him. She never married and wore the flowers in her hair for the rest of her life."

"That sounds depressing. The one time my son makes a effort to do something, instead of stumbling through life, deals with untimely death."

"Steve, it says that forget-me-nots symbolize constancy and true love."

"Josie, roses and orchids symbolize love. Lots of flowers that have nothing to do with anyone drowning symbolize love."

Josie pecked at the keys again. "Not according to this." She scanned down several pages. "There's a link here to a sight for wedding flowers. There are other flowers that symbolize love of course, but not as many as you might think."

"What about lavender?"

"Lavender was very popular with the ancient Romans," she silently read the paragraph on the computer screen. "It symbolizes loyalty, happiness, and devotion."

"What about Ivy?"

"Steve, Ivy was a part of my wedding bouquet. It symbolizes fidelity, friendship, marriage, and wedded love. I think he was trying to send a message."

Steve and Josie looked at each other in silence.

It was Sunday afternoon. The Strongholds had attended the late morning church service. Will had rather stiffly apologized for losing his temper. Steve had just as stiffly apologized for interfering with Will's decisions. As soon as church was over, Will took off.

Neither Steve nor Josie had talked to Will about the flowers. It was a touchy subject.

Steve had retreated to his second garage. The one where he kept an old jalopy he'd had for years. He'd been rebuilding the motor, tinkering with it since before Will was born.

It suddenly remembered that his father used to complain about Steve's passion for rebuilding old cars. He didn't see the value in it. He was jerked out of this train of thought by a rap-tap on the hood. Josie knew better than to disturb him for anything less than an emergency when he picked up a screwdriver. And it certainly wasn't Will.

He came out from under the hood to see a familiar red headed girl.

"So how is the reconstruction going," she looked at the dismantled engine like it was a strange alien artifact.

Steve wiped his hands on a greasy rag. "Josie says it keeps me out of trouble. Will's not here."

"I know," she planted her hands on her hips. Steve was suddenly reminded of his elderly history teacher back at school. "I want to talk to you."

Steve checked over the engine, avoiding her gaze. He was one of the world's premier superheroes. It was beneath him to be raked over the coals by a girl he used to play airplane with.

"Bout what?"

"What did you do to make Will mad? I know you had a big blowup the night of the dance. He didn't want to go into details. I haven't seen Will all day and neither has Zack or Warren. That means he's off sulking. Which means he's still upset.

"Look, Layla. I know you're only trying to help, but if Will didn't tell you what happened, I probably shouldn't either."

_Now he respects Will's privacy. "D_oes this have anything to do with my dance corsage?"

I thought you said Will didn't tell you anything about the fight," he asked suspiciously.

"I have known Will for most of my life. I can't imagine him buying me orchids. I think you switched his original corsage with one you picked out."

"For crying out loud," Steve dropped into a lawn chair. "What is wrong with orchids?"

"Nothing I suppose, but I don't especially care for them. They're rather parasitic and ostentatious. If Will was going to buy me a common flower, he'd pick roses . . . not that I expected roses either."

"What did you expect?" Steve asked curiously.

"I don't know. He likes to be different. Maybe it's a desperate stab at whatever bit of originality he can fit into his red, white, and blue life."

"What's wrong with red, white, and blue?"

"Nothing," she said blandly. "He's proud to wear the family colors, but he can't always be the perfect Stronghold heir."

"You are the second person this week who has called Will that? One of my co worker's son is in your class. I heard him call Will that."

"Everybody calls him that at school."

"I didn't know that."

Layla snorted, but Steve looked honestly suprised.

"And Will's okay with that?"

"What choice does he have?" She slided over to him and tucked her arm into the crook of his. "Make it up with Will. He wants to please you so badly . . . and he will on all the big stuff, but let him have his way on the little things."

"Layla," a smile tugged the corner's of his mouth. "I hope I am there to see what you do to the first supervillain who underestimates you"

She grinned. "So, am I right about the flowers?"

He noded then answered her next question before it was asked. "I did it because I couldn't abide the fact that my son girlfriend's corsage wasn't the nicest one at the dance. Family honor was at stake. It would have been the gossip on all the villain web sites. I am also secretly driven to control every aspect of Will's life. I'm building a machine which will allow me to subliminally send messages to this brain"

"I am sure that is not true -- but I wouldn't try that joke on Will. He get's a little paranoid sometimes."

"I was just trying to help. I wanted things to be perfect."

"You wanted your perfection. Have you learned your lesson now?"

Steve held up his hands in surrender. "I sincerely promise to never alter my son's flowers ever again."

"Tell Will that. He can't hold a grudge at all." She turned to leave. "I'll call him later."

"Wait Layla. Don't you want to know about the flowers Will picked out for you?"

"No. That would spoil the surprise?"


End file.
